Bloody Knuckles

I can’t,

but I do,

breathe you in,

as I look upon these,

bloody knuckles,

under the night moon,

M.O.O.N.

sanguine black,

lunar light ignites,

as I dream,

counting stars unconsciously,

bound by heart,

and I’m not so bold,

I tell myself I’m alright,

while we discuss trivialities,

but I’m not old enough,

to forget,

how I drown,

I want to believe,

yet…

when I clear my throat,

you’re,

silent,

or gone,

silent or gone.

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